Authors: Rebecca Shaw
Village Matters (5 page)
‘I don’t think the rent from the fair would amount to enough for Sir Ralph to make a fuss about. Linda, can it keep, if it’s top secret this isn’t the place to be discussing it, is it?’
‘Sorry Mr Charter-Plackett, I’ll tell you the rest in my coffee break.’
Jimbo didn’t have to wait until Linda’s coffee break, because the very next customer who came in launched herself into the latest piece of gossip.
‘Have you heard, Mr Charter-Plackett, that the council’s building a hundred houses on the spare land when the chapel goes? Doesn’t seem right, does it?’
‘A hundred houses? They couldn’t surely, it isn’t big enough.’
‘Well, that’s what the council’s going to do. Scandalous isn’t it? Downright scandalous. I bet Sir Ralph won’t like that at all. He’ll want to keep the village like it’s always been. We’ll have to get a campaign up. It’ll carry some weight though with a titled person leading it.’
‘Where did you learn this?’
‘From my niece, she works in the council offices doing the tea trolley. She hears everything that goes on there, believe me. And there’s certainly plenty going on. The
management there ’as wild parties, you’d be surprised at what they get up to. Oh, yes! Disgusting! They do say’ – Jimbo’s customer leant closer and whispered in his ear – ‘they do wife swapping at their parties!’
Jimbo got a piece of paper and a pen from behind the till and said, ‘Give me the telephone number and I’ll see if Harriet and I can get invited.’
For a moment the customer took him seriously and then realised his eyes were twinkling. ‘Oh, Mr Charter-Plackett, you nearly caught me there. Anyway I’ll keep you informed.’ She winked at him, picked up her groceries and left.
Jimbo contemplated the idea of one hundred houses and what it would do to his turnover. Magnificent. A completely magnificent idea. Still, if the land belonged to Ralph like Linda said it did, there wouldn’t be a hope in hell of houses being built on it. Someone had got their wires crossed. Still, a hundred houses. With all those new customers the Store would thrive, with his outsider catering flourishing like it always did, the mail-order business coming along nicely under his mother-in-law’s eagle eye and with the contract for the catering at the Big House already in the bag, they’d really be in the money. Jimbo rubbed his hands together at the prospect.
‘And why is the proprietor of the Turnham Malpas Village Store rubbing his hands with such glee?’
Jimbo swung round and saw Harriet. ‘Darling! Where did you spring from?’
‘The mail-order office, mother needed an extra pair of hands so I’ve been helping in there.’
‘I did say you musn’t, not in your condition as they say.’
‘I’m as fit as a flea, Jimbo, and with three months to go I’ve still got some energy to spare.’
‘Don’t overdo it, darling, please.’
‘I won’t. So why were you rubbing your hands?’
Jimbo took her arm and led her into the store room. With Harriet seated on his stool, he told her the morning’s gossip. ‘So we shan’t say a word. I don’t care who the hell builds the houses, but they will mean a big increase in business for us.’
‘It will take years, absolutely years, to get them built. By the time they’ve had protests and inquiries and things we could be looking at three or four years before anyone even puts a spade in.’
‘I rather think they’ll need more than a spade to dig the foundations for a hundred houses.’
‘We’ll see, we’ll see. Ralph and Muriel will be opposed so we shall have to tread carefully.’
‘Exactly. We shan’t come down on either side, we shall remain aloof from the hurly-burly.’
‘Some hope, some hope.’
‘Vera and Don were away last week at that funeral so they didn’t ’ave a chance to have a drink to celebrate you getting wed and me winning the pools. So you’ll ’ave to come, yer both getting into right homebirds and it won’t do.’
‘All right, all right,’ Willie reluctantly agreed. ‘Seven o’clock sharp then.’
‘Well, that’s good and dress up a bit and I’ll take you for another meal in Bryn’s dining room, I’m getting a right liking for it. So don’t eat before yer come out.’
Willie passed the message on to his Sylvia and they both made a special effort to look smart. About five minutes to seven they entered the bar. There were scarcely any customers and their host held centre stage. Sylvia gasped when she saw Jimmy standing at the bar. It was his feet she
noticed first – instead of his old calf-high, well worn dirty boots, he was wearing brand new black shoes. He stood with one well-shod foot resting on the brass rail below the front of the bar, an elbow propped on the bar counter.
‘Why Jimmy, you do look smart. Look at him, just look at him Willie.’
The transformation didn’t stop at his feet. Gone was the foul old flat cap, gone the old green jacket and the innumerable jumpers he always wore. They had been replaced by a smart dark grey suit, white shirt and a dazzling tie. He was clean-shaven and his hair well barbered. His moustache, which had been a village institution from time immemorial, had gone too; the newly shaved top lip looked pale in contrast to his narrow well tanned face.
Willie nudged his elbow. ‘I can’t believe the change, Jimmy, you’re almost unrecognisable.’
‘Shows what money can do!’
Sylvia felt the quality of the material the suit was made of. ‘It certainly does. You look a right catch and not half.’
‘Thanks, Sylvia thanks. I’m glad yer like me like this. Never had money to spare before, yer see.’
‘Well, go on,’ Willie said. ‘Tell us ’ow much yer’ve got.’
‘Seeing as I’ve known you since we were in nappies, I’ll tell yer, but I don’t want them busybodies to know.’ He nodded his head in the direction of the three other customers. ‘Don’t want ’em coming begging, yer see.’ He mouthed rather than spoke the words. ‘Fifty thousand one hundred pounds and seventy-five pence.’
Willie whistled in amazement. ‘I don’t believe it. I never thought you’d do it, yer know. It’s nothing short of a miracle.’
‘That’s ’ow I see it. A miracle no less.’ Sylvia reached up
and gave him a kiss. ‘I’m really, really glad for you Jimmy. Make the best of it, don’t fritter it away.’
Jimmy tapped the side of his long thin nose and said, ‘I ’ave mi plans and not ’alf. Wait and see.’
Vera and Don Wright and Pat arrived to join the party. They chose a bigger table than usual and all sat down. Willie made a suggestion. ‘Hadn’t we better organise a table in the dining room? It might get full with it being Saturday.’
Jimmy assured him that he’d already taken care of that. Vera was pressing him to reveal how much he’d actually won when the door opened and in came the rector. Peter, his head bent because of his height, stood in the entrance looking at the occupants of the bar. He looked anxious and out of breath.
Willie put down his glass, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and called out, ‘Good evening, sir, are you looking for me?’
‘Ah, there you are. Good evening everybody. Willie, I’m afraid we have an emergency on our hands. You’ll have to come, there’s been a breakin at the church hall.’
‘Oh no! Have they taken much?’
‘Well, I thought you’d know that better than me. Can you come right away? Sorry to break up the party.’
Don said, ‘We’ll all come, Rector, they might still be in there.’
‘Right, thanks, that’s a good idea.’ The men stood up to go, and Pat and Vera with them. Willie suggested that the womenfolk shouldn’t come, it wasn’t safe, but Pat said, ‘And miss all the fun? Not likely. Come on, Sylvia, bring yer umbrella, we might need it.’
The six of them hurried down Stocks Row, round into Church Lane, through the big double gates and up the drive to the church hall. It was in darkness. Willie went first and
tried the main door. ‘It’s open!’ He felt on the wall for the main switches and flooded the hall with light. It was completely empty.
A lone trumpet burst into ‘Here comes the bride’ and from nowhere came accompanying voices lustily singing the words. When the song was finished the doors from the kitchen and the small hall opened, and out into the main hall poured almost every friend and neighbour and child Willie knew. Sylvia blushed bright red with sheer delight. They all surged forward to shake their hands and wish them happiness.
‘Weren’t at the wedding so we had to celebrate somehow!’
‘Bet that’s surprised you, hasn’t it?’
‘It was all Dr Harris’s idea, wasn’t it, Rector?’
Peter laughed and nodded. ‘Yes, you’re right, it was.’
In the midst of the excitement Willie turned to Peter and said, ‘Now, sir, that was a trick you played on us and not half. Hall broken into, what a tale!’
‘It was true, it was true. All these people broke in, I had to come and tell you, didn’t I?’ Peter smiled at him, enjoying the joke.
‘Is Dr Harris here?’
‘She’s at home with the twins, I’m going back shortly and she’s going to come over to join you.’
Jimbo Charter-Plackett climbed on a chair. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, before we go any further with tonight’s proceedings, my daughter Flick has something to say. Come along, Flick, where are you?’
There was a moment’s hesitation and then Flick appeared in the kitchen doorway, carrying a huge bouquet. Everyone smiled. They all loved Flick; they loved her happy personality, they loved her smile, they loved to hear her
chatter. They awaited her speech.
She curtsied and then said, ‘Mr and Mrs Biggs, these flowers are for you from all of us, to say how pleased we are that you have got married, and we all hope you will be very happy.’ She whispered confidentially, ‘And there’s lots of presents in the small hall, you wouldn’t believe how many!’ She curtsied again and gave Sylvia the flowers. They all laughed and clapped and Sylvia bent down and gave her a hug and a kiss.
Jimbo climbed back up on the chair. ‘Right, ladies and gentlemen, quiet please. Quiet please. Now’s the time to let the bridal couple lead the way to the buffet. A right royal buffet we’ve laid on for a right royal pair. Forward march!’
They all held back while the bride and groom reached the front of the crowd and then followed them into the small hall. From end to end of the far wall was a table laden with food and in the centre of the table was a beautiful two-tier wedding cake, with a small silver vase of flowers decorating the top. The flowers were deep pink and around the edges of the cake were icing sugar-flowers in varying shades of pink complementing the real flowers on the top. Swirls of silvery white and pink ribbons decorated the table around the cake. On another table presents were piled high, awaiting presentation. Sylvia burst into tears of joy. Willie lent her his handkerchief, and then put his arm around her shoulders, his face alight with pleasure.
‘Speech, speech,’ the guests demanded.
‘My Sylvia and I would like to thank you for this lovely party, it must be the best kept secret in Turnham Malpas for centuries, we’d absolutely no idea.’ Someone at the back shouted. ‘We’ll go some to keep a secret better than you, Willie Biggs! Marrying without any of us knowing.’ Everyone laughed. Willie acknowledged the quip and
continued his speech. ‘And as for you, Jimmy, you conniving old so-and-so, I’ll see you later. Thank you again and again, we shan’t forget all your kindness in planning this. We’re both very happy, we hope you all will be too. Here’s to a wonderful evening!’
After everyone had finished eating, and Willie and his Sylvia had cut the cake, Venetia Mayer, who had disappeared moments before, struggled in through the doorway with a gigantic box, wrapped in wedding gift paper. Everyone crowded round. What on earth could it possibly be? Trust Venetia to come up with something dramatic! Jeremy refused to tell. ‘Wait and see,’ he said, ‘wait and see.’
Sylvia began tearing off the paper. She opened the lid and out floated three huge heart-shaped silver hydrogen-filled balloons. They all craned their necks to see what was written on them. One said ‘Congratulations’, the second one said ‘Willie loves Sylvia’ and the third ‘Sylvia loves Willie’. Willie tied them by their ribbons to a chair and they all cried ‘Give the bride a kiss’. So he did. Then Jimbo put on a tape and they began dancing. Willie and Sylvia started off the first dance all by themselves. Willie wasn’t up to dancing, he hadn’t done it since he used to go to the Palais in Culworth as a young man, but he made a brave show for his Sylvia’s sake.
Caroline let herself into the rectory at eleven o’clock that night. She called upstairs, ‘Peter, I’m making myself a cup of tea, would you like one?’
‘Yes, please, darling. Had a good time?’
‘Excellent, I’m exhausted! Won’t be long. Twins OK?’
‘Both fine, not a peep out of them all evening.’
Caroline took the tea upstairs and put it on Peter’s side table. She looked in on the twins and tucked the blankets
more closely around Beth, who had a habit of kicking off all her bedclothes and waking chilled to the bone in the middle of the night. Alex lay on his back, a hand either side of his head, sleeping deeply, his likeness to Peter increased as the weeks went by. There was no hiding the fact he was his. None at all.
Caroline got ready for bed and climbed in beside Peter, who was sitting up reading. He asked how she’d enjoyed the evening.
‘Wonderful. I’m so glad the idea came to me. We couldn’t let them get married so secretly and the village not have a chance to celebrate, could we? I have to admit to wondering if they would both cope, but they did. We’ve had a fantastic night. Jimbo’s a brilliant master of ceremonies, he gets everyone going, however resistant they are. We’ve danced and sung and played games, but I suddenly went dreadfully tired so I’ve left them all to it. Jimbo has put Scottish dancing tapes on now and Alan Crimble, who says he’s part Scottish, is teaching them the dances. They were all laughing so much I don’t think they’ll learn anything at all. What a night!’
‘It was the most superbly kept secret, darling. Here’s your tea.’
‘Thanks, it was, wasn’t it? I don’t know how we managed it, knowing the propensity of this village for gossip! Whilst I was at the party I had a talk with Pat Duckett. I’m going to ask Jimbo ifhe can find some more work for her with his outside catering. She is very strapped for cash, she was telling me at the party how hard things are for her.’
‘I thought you went to enjoy yourself, not be a rector’s wife.’
‘Can’t help it, people will confide in me. I must have that kind of face.’
‘Did he know anything about them hiding the silver?’
‘Nothing at all, he was away at prep school when it all happened. In any case they wouldn’t tell a little boy, would they? It would have been too much to expect him to keep it secret. He’s determined, however, to get it all back where it belongs, even if we decide to sell some of it to help with the repairs to the tower. I can see we could be in for some fireworks. I really don’t see how Fitch can possibly lay claim to it at all. He must be off his trolley.’
‘Perhaps power has gone to his head. That tea was lovely, I felt so dry.’
‘Let me take your cup. Happy?’
‘Oh yes, in paradise actually.’ Caroline snuggled down under the duvet. Peter lay down beside her. He took hold of her hand and held it to his lips and kissed it.
‘I’m glad. So am I. God bless. Goodnight.’